The chosen one
Hermione crouched down to fix the broken vase, her hands stumbling over the glasses. The butter cup flowers scattered on the ground as she tried to assemble the flowers in haste.
Hermione hadn't anticipated Lloyd to return as soon as the vase shattered, She wished the ground could just devour her instantly, instead of listening to him raging at her.
She felt someone louring daggers at her back as she crammed together the glasses, she knew it was him. He must be so mad, she'd wished she had never encountered him.
"Who did this?" she heard a thunderous voice from above. Hermione jolted on the spot, and the fragment of glass sliced through her fingers, drawing blood.
She stilled on the ground, not giving him any response.
Hermione didn't know why, she was scared of what he might do to her.